


Standing here with my soul in my hand

by Readingfanfics



Series: Practice Stories [55]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Desperation, Happy Ending, I promise, M/M, No Johnlock, Self Harm, Self Loathing, Violence, a lot of tears, all sherstrade, complet work, greg is wonderful but also sad, i cant believe i even need to use this tag, self hate, sherlock is sad and not thinking straight, sherlock isn't looking after himself, sherlock season 4, slow burn happy ending, this is very anti john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: Sherlock is broken and sad after the events at the Aquarium and seeks comfort in Greg Lestrade.





	1. Chapter 1

“Sherlock. Don’t.”

His hand stopped a millisecond before moving again. Bold and firm, towards a clear destination.

“Sherlock.”

The tone more demanding, the level of irritation up a notch. The glimmer of arousel cearly there. The hand around his wrist was warm, the hold too soft to really stop him.

“Sherlock, stop. This isn’t what you want.”

The hold around his wrist was now tight, not hurting but not gentle either. The irritation was clear but the hint of longing or sadness was louder.

“But it’s what you want.”

A squeeze on his wrist before it was moved of the warm skin on down on the cold sofa. Another squeez before the hold was broken, leaving Sherlock cold. And angry.

“Don’t deny it! You want me, you’ve always wanted me. I’m telling you yes.”

A pair of clever brown eyes going hard, a soft mouth pulling taunt, gritting teeth as the moment stretches.

“This is normal Sherlock. You lost a good friend under dramatic circumstances. You’re grieving. You don’t want this, not really.”

That edge of sadness again, the sound of a missed opportunity as they break eyecontact. Anger turning to fury.

“Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want Lestrade! I know what I want. You.”

He moves forward, hands reaching out to hold something, anything, to just hold but Lestrade stands up.  Leaving too much space between them and Sherlock feels cold again, like ice.

“You don’t Sherlock. You lost Mary and now John…”

“You think this is about John?”

Fury moves inside him again as Lestrade gives a look. A ‘c’mon Sherlock, don’t act stupid’ look. It’s painful and insulting to look at so Sherlock looks away. Milliseconds that count for years.

“It’s always about John, Sherlock. I can’t be him.”

“I’m not asking you to!”

His statement is firm but his voice falters and they both know. Sherlock feels those sad eyes on him, feels the weight of them drowning him.

“I’m sorry.”

Lost and broken, pleading for something and Lestrade sighs, the weight of the world in it.

“It’s okay Sherlock. I understand.”

A warm hand atop his shoulder and he leans in slightly, a tender moment that makes him forget the pain, the hurt, the anger.

“I have to leave Sherlock. I can’t- I have to go.”

Sherlock reaches out, the hold on Lestrade’s wrist too hard.

“Please stay.”

Broken and sad, asking for something and Lestrade closes his eyes, melting away the world.

“I can’t stay Sherlock. I want to. Too much.”

Sherlock nods, letting go of Lestrade’s wrist with difficulty. Wanting to demand, to scream, to just take.

“Night Sherlock. Call me if… Goodnight.”

The lightest press of lips against his forehead, the smell of home in his noise and then there’s only cold and hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is all alone and falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came to mind today, I have no explination really.

He was all alone now. Everyone had gone.

 

First Mary, then John with Rosie and now Lestrade.

 

His heart ached, his eyes stung and for the first time in a long while he felt like giving up,giving in. Nothing was right anymore and nothing mattered.

 

He'd made a vow, a promise and he'd broken it. John's rage and hurt had been so clear, so strong it had knocked him out and he hadn't felt anything for days after.

 

Not until Lestrade had shown up.

 

It had been weird, this strong emotional pull towards a man he had come to see as just part of his life, something that would always be there. Something, and he wanted to sob at just thinking it, you forgot was even dare but missed greatly when it was gone.

 

He'd taken him for granted, had taken all of them for granted and now he was left here. Alone and cold in a lonely flat that once was his home. Now it felt like his resting place.

 

“ _You need to stop this and get up.”_

 

The voice sounded so real Sherlock lifted his head, ready to scream, to argue, to scold but there was no one there. For a second he'd wished there was.

 

“ _I've always warned you Sherlock. Why didn't you listen?_ ”

 

Now he let out a scream of anger, shaking his head to try and stop the voice inside him. The voice that always sounded smug and superior, that pointed him towards all his bad decisions, his mistakes.

 

“ _You should have listened Brother mine. Caring is still not an advantage.”_

 

He screamed again, the sound bouncing off the walls and back inside his ears good to ground him, good to know he was still here, still breathing. He grabbed his head, rocking back and forth on the sofa, trying to not listen.

 

“And then this, Lestrade... Really Sherlock. Have some dignity left please.”

 

His hands found his hear, pulling at his curls till it hurt, not stopping before he screamed again in pain. This was better, something to control, to have comfort in. He couldn't stop rocking, couldn't stop pulling, the voice inside his head getting louder by the second. It was unbearable, torture, never ending suffering.

 

Could this last forever?

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is losing it but there is some light at the end of the tunnel.

John didn't call him back nor answered his texts. He thought about going over there, just to see him, to see Rosie. But John had been clear. He wasn't welcome or wanted. Not anymore. And either way, John had moved out, taking sweet Rosie with him. At least he had pictures, some videos. It would have to do.

 

He hadn't been welcome to the funeral either. It had broken him all over again but he understood. Nobody wanted a murderer at the funeral. He'd gone the next day, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Seeing the elegant grave had made him tear up, throat thick as his hands shook, almost dropping the flowers.

 

_"Did I ever tell you I like you?"_

 

It wasn't the first time he'd lost someone. There'd been Victor and Adam, both drug overdoses and RedBeard, his dog when he'd been only a boy. It had been hard,confronting to realise life did end, but none of them weren't as crushing as this.

 

Not only was Mary a dear friend, someone that liked him for being him but she'd also died saving him. Of all the outcomes he'd predicted he hadn't thought about Mary jumping in to save him. He'd been too late to stop her, too shocked to try and save her.

 

He'd never forget John's face, the rage and anger. The bitterness in his voice, the hatred in his eyes.

 

_"You made a vow. You promised."_

 

He still woke up late at night, seeing that hated look, being haunted by all of John's rage, his own guilt.

 

It was too much and he wanted to forget. He needed to forget but it felt disrespectful towards Mary, towards John.

 

He didn't deserve the bliss of forgiveness. He didn't deserve anything good or pure.

 

In a way he's grateful Lestrade stopped him. Someone like Lestrade was out of reach, too good and pure. Too kind and forgiving. He couldn't do it, couldn't ask him for comfort knowing he'd taint him with his faults, his ugliness. It was too great a risk.

 

He couldn't destroy Lestrade too.

 

He just hadn't planned on Lestrade destroying himself.

 

“W-what are you doing here?”

 

Sherlock can't keep the neediness out of his tone and he hates it. He doesn't deserve needing Lestrade. But seeing the man after nearly 5 weeks is like a breath of fresh air. He doesn't even mind the disapproving look Lestrade gives him as he steps inside, pushing Sherlock gently away.

 

“Christ Sherlock! Are you kidding me? You need to take care of yourself!”

 

Hearing Lestrade mumble and curse makes Sherlock feel instantly better, slowly closing the door and following him with his eyes.

 

“You lost weight. You should s-stop that.”

It's out of his mouth before thinking, making Lestrade turn around, crossing his arms.

 

“I'll stop if you stop. Really Sherlock, have you eaten at all?”

 

Anger mixed with concern, another sweep up and down his body and it makes Sherlock feel alive for just a second. Which is more then all this time, the time after Mary. It's weird how his life is divided up now. Life before John, before Mary and after them. The after always comes with a sense of loss and dread.

 

Lestrade is still watching him, waiting for something but Sherlock can't remember why. What were they talking about. He feels cold suddenly, his knees shaking and before he even says anything, before he can even think about saying something, Lestrade is there.

 

“Christ Sherlock! You can hardly stand! And please tell me you have showered in these past few weeks.”

 

Sherlock blinks, letting himself be carried by Lestrade, amassed at the strength shown as he's being gentle placed down on the sofa. Not the hard dropping John did. Not like John at all.

 

“Sherlock? I need to ask you but are you high? Have you taking anything? Anything at all?”

 

It pains Lestrade to ask, he can see it all over his face and Sherlock shakes his head slowly. He hasn't taking anything, not yet, just, hasn't eaten in a while. Or drank. Or taken a shower. After a while it seemed pointless so he stopped and there wasn't anyone to nag at him for it. No John or Mary. Mds Hudson gave up after a week and he hasn't heard from Mycroft in a long time.

 

Nobody to care about him. To be worried.

 

“Alright, that's good. Okay, plan of action for tonight. We are getting you into the tub cause honestly, you stink Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock tries to make a sound of affront but knows it's true so he just shrugs a shoulder, getting a tiny smile from Lestrade as reward. He looks instantly perfect.

 

“And then I'm ordering some dinner and you are going to eat all of it, got it?”

 

Sherlock nods his head, loving the firm look in Greg's eyes, his whole body.

 

“You shouldn't be doing this Sherlock, you shouldn't punish yourself.”

 

Sherlock tenses instantly, wanting Lestrade gone. He doesn't want compassion, doesn't want pity.

 

“I d-deserve it. I-I k-killed Mary.”

 

His heart beats to fast, his chest feels tight and then warm hands are on his face, kind brown eyes locked on his.

 

“You didn't kill Mary, Sherlock, you couldn't have known. Okay,let's get you a good clean,you need it.”

 

It isn't till the water is running and Lestrade stands in front of him that Sherlock realises Lestrade is going to have to take him to the bathroom. He tries to stand on his own, tries to move but all his strength is gone.

 

“I can't. You shouldn't...”

 

“Shut up Sherlock. Let me help.”

 

Sherlock feels embarrassed in Lestrade's hold, like a child being carried by his dad after a long day but he can hardly keep his eyes open now.

 

“Okay, let's sit you down right here. Eyes open Sherlock!”

 

He's sitting on the tiny chair in the bathroom, the steam of the water making him feel better already and then Lestrade's warm hands or on him again, resting on his shoulders.

 

“Can you undress yourself Sherlock?”

 

He wants to say yes, he really wants to do it alone but his hands start shaking as soon as he moves them, his arms feel like lead and he can't keep in a tiny sob as he shakes his head no.

 

“It's okay Sherlock. I'm going to help you, I promise.”

 

“Lest-Lestrade, I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry.”

 

It's hard to speak, he feels raw and exposed but he needs to say it, needs to let him now.

 

“I know Sherlock, shhht, it's all right. I'm going to, you know....”

 

A hint of fear in Lestrade's voice and Sherlock takes a breath before slowly nodding again, eyes falling closed as Lestrade undresses him, careful to not touch his naked skin.

 

He's grateful and angry at the same time.

 

“You need to stand up now Sherlock. You can keep your pants on if it's more comfortable.”

 

Sherlock shakes his head, a blush forming on his cheeks.

 

“Not wearing any pants.”

 

He hears Lestrade huff a laugh as he's being pulled up, head resting on Greg's shoulder as gentle hands tug his trousers down. He's too tired, too exhausted to care how close they are, how weird this situation really is.

 

“Into the water now Sherlock. One foot at a time.”

 

He's shaking all over as he gets in, half moaning as the water touches his tired skin. He sits down slowly, like an old man, Lestrade's hands guiding him before pulling away. There's so many bubbles in the water Sherlock can't see his legs, or his cock. Maybe it's for the best. He lets his head fall back, resting on the edge of the bath, wanting to stay here forever.

 

“I'll look for some clean clothes, anything you prefer?”

 

Sherlock startles by Lestrade's gentle voice, blinking his eyes rapidly. He needs to turn his head all the way back before he sees him, standing very close to the door, eyes fixed on the wall opposite him.

 

“No. Just something s-soft.”

 

He sees Lestrade nod before leaving, closing the door softly and Sherlock feels a spark of irritation. He's not a child damnit! He closes his eyes again, letting the water calm him, make him clean again and is half asleep by the time Lestrade gets back, bundle of clothes in hand. He places them on the stool before standing at the same spot, eyes again on the wall and it's out of Sherlock's mouth before he can stop it.

 

“If I'm that h-horrible to look at you can just leave.”

 

He wants it to sound hard and sharp but it comes out too broken, too hurt and of course Lestrade moves closer, shaking his head as he stops in front of Sherlock's line of vision, eyes on his face.

 

“Don't say that. You're not horrible to look at Sherlock. I just wanted to give you some privacy, some decency okay.”

 

Sherlock loves that edge of hardness in Lestrade's voice, the way his eyes lock onto his, the light blush on his clean shaven cheeks. It makes him feel alive again for a moment and he looks down at himself, still only seeing bubbles.

 

“Not much too see anyway.”

 

He tries to laugh but fails as his eyes find Lestrade's, seeing that hardness in them again.

 

“What? Why are you angry?”

 

His stomach does a flip as the question leaves him. Lestrade's eyes go wide for a second before breathing out loudly, arms crossed.

 

“Why do you think Sherlock? I don't hear from you in weeks and then I come over and find you like this. Not eaten in days, maybe longer! You hardly slept by the looks of it and you haven't showered, brushed your hair! It's not like you Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock closes his eyes, willing the tears to not start and he flinches when Lestrade takes his hand, resting on the edge of the bath.

 

“You need to stop punishing yourself Sherlock. This isn't healthy. You need to stop.”

 

Sherlock swallows as Lestrade's voice breaks, letting go of his hand to touch his face, careses his cheek. It's too kind and caring and Sherlock pulls away, eyes burning.

 

“Sherlock, please let me help you.”

 

Lestrade takes his hand again and he lets him, feeling it burn as Lestrade's thumb goes up and down.

 

“But why?” He whispers, eyes still closed, face still away from him. He doesn't want to ask but needs to know.

 

“After what I did.”

 

“You didn't kill Mary!”

 

Lestrade sounds angry again, the movement of his thumb stopped to squeeze Sherlock's hand. Sherlock shakes his head, opening his eyes to look at Lestrade for a moment before looking away again.

 

“I meant, what I d-did to y-you. Why would you help me? I'm disgusting.”

 

Sherlock felt a tear roll down his cheek and he wiped it away with his other hand. He didn't want Lestrade not touching him, even if he tainted the man by letting him do it.

 

“Damnit Sherlock! You're not disgusting. You're Sherlock Holmes, the smartest man I know.”

 

Sherlock felt the air leave his body at Lestrade's words, he instantly felt cold, wanting to jump out and get away from here. He felt the squeeze in his hand, the shake on his shoulders but he couldn't answer, couldn't move. Images of the last month came back, crashing him, making him numb with self hate.

 

“ _Because I'm Sherlock Holmes.”_

 

He'd been so arrogant, so full of himself. Thinking he really was the smartest man in the world, thinking he could out smart them all, win every game, solve every puzzle, disect every person he met. He'd been so cocky, walking around like he was more. More special, more smart, more important. He'd been so blinded by himself, by his deductions he hadn't seen the moment he'd gone too far, crossed that line again until the gun was fired and Mary had been dead.

 

It was all his fault.

 

“SHERLOCK!”

 

He flinches at the hard voice filling the bathroom, relaxing slightly as he sees Lestrade looming over him, eyes full of concern, face white with shock. He blinks his eyes, trying to understand why Lestrade is looking so scared and realises he's been non responsive for at least 15 minutes. He's cold to the bone, shivering in the water and Lestrade curses before lifting him out of the bath. Water falls everywhere while he's being carried out to his bedroom, placed on top of his sheets and bundled in them.

 

His teeth clatter as Lestrade leaves, coming back with towels and his clean clothes, all the while cursing as he gets to work, drying off Sherlock's hair. Sherlock tries to hold onto the sheets but Lestrade gives him a hard look.

 

“You need to get warm Sherlock. It won't help if you're wet.”

 

Sherlock wants to cry again but nods, closing his eyes as Lestrade peels his hands away, getting the sheets out of the way. Sherlock shivers again and then a soft towel is being dragged all over his front. He lifts his arms, let's them down again. He knows the moment Lestrade finally has a good look at the scars on his back, the hesitation before the towel dries his neck, going down to his back.

 

“Here, get this on first. Will you manage?”

 

Sherlock nods, taking the shirt and jumper, not able to hide a scowl.

 

“It's soft and warm Sherlock, don't be posh now.”

 

There is a hint of amusement in Lestrade's tone and Sherlock puts it on and Lestrade kneels down. A wave of panic enters Sherlock's body but Lestrade has his eyes on Sherlock's feet and legs, getting them dry quickly.

 

“Give me a foot, now the other. Okay, now socks. These okay?”

 

Sherlock nods and instantly feels better as the socks cover his feet.

 

“Can you stand Sherlock? Here, grab the back of this chair. Do you need me to dry...”

 

Lestrade trails off and Sherlock feels a blush on his face. At least he's too exhausted and mortified for his cock to work properly.

 

“I'll do it.”

 

“Okay. I'll be right outside, call me when you need me.”

 

The awkwardness stays in the room as Sherlock clenches his teeth, slowly getting up, using the chair for balance. He dries himself off, pulling up his pants and trousers before sitting down again. Lestrade already took the wet sheets with him and he hears the water drain from the bathroom.

 

This is the part where he needs to get up and face Lestrade, thank him for his help but he can't do it. He's glued to the bed, too ashamed and embarrassed to go out there. He's known the man for so long but this is the first time he's been here so long, seen Sherlock so broken and helpless. Seen him naked!

 

He doesn't normally care what people think about him. His body is just that, a body. It doesn't make him special or perfect. To him it doesn't matter what he looks like but he knows people find him attractive in a weird way. Something to do with his eyes, his lips and cheekbones.

 

“ _You, being all mysterious with_ _your cheekbones_ _and turning your coat collar up so you look_ _cool_ _.”_

 

He never understood it, this fascinating with his features. It's just there and he can't change it so he never bothered too much about it. But now, Lestrade undressing him, seeing all the marks and scars, the paleness of his body, the returned sharpness, all his edges. He shakes his head, trying to stop these silly thoughts but it's hard. He want to stay here, curl up and forget it all happened but then there's a knock on the door and Lestrade's face comes into view.

 

“Dinner's here.”

 

A tiny smile, a light frown and the door opens more, soft light coming from the living room, the smell of warm food. It's been so long Sherlock's mouth actually waters at the smell and his stomach makes the most embarrassing sound, filling the whole room. Lestrade's eyes widen in surprise and suddenly he's laughing out loud, using his whole body as the sound warms Sherlock's heart.

 

“I guess it's been a while.”

 

He rolls his eyes as Lestrade still smiles, making him look 5 years younger and Sherlock feels a stab of guilt. He's the reason Lestrade's not smiling as often anymore.

 

He's never been easy to deal with. First his awkwardness around people, the constant blurring out of deductions, acting before thinking. Then his ego, the arrogance over the years as he solved more crimes, seeing Lestrade and his team as idiots. He deserves so much more then this. Cleaning up after another mess he made, being here, being worried instead of going home, relaxing, watching a show and falling a sleep before 10. He deserves that, some piece and quite, some happiness.

 

“Sherlock? You coming?”

 

Sherlock blinks, snapped out of his thoughts and he gives a nod before slowly standing up. His body still aches and protests but it's not as bad as before and he only stumbles once as he goes to the living room. Lestrade is by his side, not crowding him but being there in case he needs it. He feels his eyes sting again.

 

“Small bites Sherlock, it's clearly been a while since you ate and I don't want you getting sick.”

 

Sherlock wants to scowled. Of course he knows this, he's not stupid but then he looks up and sees the patience and kindness in Lestrade's eyes and he just gives a small smile, taking a bite of the warm food. It's something with chicken and a creamy sause and it tastes amazing. He eats slowly, taking small sips of water and feels warmer by the second. He feels Lestrade's eyes on him as he eats, feels the approval wash over him and it's nice.

 

“What happened in there Sherlock? Everything was fine one second and then you, you left.”

 

Sherlock swallows down his bite of chicken, taking another sip of water before looking at Lestrade. He sees the little lines around the man's eyes, the tired look in them and he's hit with another stab of guilt.

 

“I. I've been so.”

 

He can't say it, his hand trembles and Lestrade takes it, squeezing it lightly.

 

“You don't have to talk to me Sherlock. You just, well, you had me worried.”

 

Sherlock looks up and sees Lestrade is telling the truth. He doesn't have to answer, can pretend it's nothing and try to forget but he knows that never helps him in the long run. He's pretended for so long, trying to forget so much and it just hurts. He can't lie to him. He doesn't want to.

 

“It was what you said. About me, being 'Sherlock Holmes'.” He can't keep the hate out of his name and he knows Lestrade hears it too.

 

“I've been so arrogant Lestrade. So cocky. I didn't. I thought I was better and I couldn't keep my mouth shut and now Mary. Now Mary's dead because of me!”

 

His heart beats faster again, hurt and anger racing inside him. He pulls his hand out of Lestrade's hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it hard. He let's out a half scream, half sob as Lestrade grabs his hands, holding them firmly down on his lap.

 

“Stop it Sherlock! Stop punishing yourself! You couldn't have known! I've told you a million times before. You. Couldn't. Have. Known.!”

 

Sherlock cries, breathing deeply in and out as Lestrade holds his hands, letting him cry.

 

“You think Mary didn't know the risk of going with you? She knew you Sherlock, she knew who you were and what you did. John does too. She jumped to save you, you shouldn't throw away that gift, you shouldn't throw away your life because of guilt. Mary wanted you to be happy!”

 

Sherlock can't stop the tears and they only grown as Lestrade speaks. He feels strong arms around him and he gives in, smelling the mix of earth and freshness that's so typical for the man. He cries his heart out, leaving tears on Lestrade's shirt, trying to breath, trying to get some control back.

 

“Shhht, it's okay Sherlock. It's going to be okay. You're not alone. I know you think you are and I know I'm the last person you want here but I'm here for you. I promise. Shhht, it's okay now.”

 

Sherlock clings to Lestrade's shirt, something about the man's statement not sounding right but he can't speak, can't focus enough to analyse it now.

 

“John will turn around, you know him better then anyone Sherlock. Give him some time, he's grieving just like you. He'll come around. He's your best friend. It's going to be all right. He'll pull through for you Sherlock. John will pull through for you.”

 

Of course, at that point in time, neither of them knew how bad it would get.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I like to punish/comfort myself and then I write things like this. So, chapters 1 to 3 are all after episode 1 of season 4, after Mary dies and John cuts Sherlock out of his life. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this?  
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock does what Mary tells him too.

He finds Mary's video a week later and he feels alive. Seeing her face, hearing her voice, it's painful but also better then nothing. Then her message hits him and he knows it's what he needs to do.

 

It's something to fight for, to work on, to go towards.

 

_John._

 

John is on his mind constantly and it's too much. He knows it, he knows this isn't normal. He destroys himself to the brink of death but it's all fine cause it's for John. He slowly loses his mind again, his best asset, and it's fine cause it's for John. He puts his name and reputation back on the line again and it's worth it cause it's for John. Somehow, it's all for John. Always for John.

 

It takes weeks for his plan to work and he feels okay, he feels good, he feels great. His body still aches all the time, his mind is closing down but he's never felt better. Knowing this is what John needs, knowing he can make it all better, safe this, safe them.

 

He doesn't notice the fear in Mrs.Hudson's eyes, doesn't hear the worry in Molly's voice. He ignores his brother and goes out of his way to not see Lestrade.

 

_Lestrade._

 

It's the only thing that makes him stop once in a while. The only sliver of doubt that creeps in into this whole plan. He knows he deserves this, knows he needs to go to hell and stay there for as long as it takes but images of Lestrade come to mind. His concerned eyes, his kind smile, his wonderful laugh, the memory of being held by him, being able to break down, being able to not pretend.

 

But it's not for him.

 

So he carries on, tweeting to the world about Culverton Smith. Making sure the man knows him, knows he knows that Smith is a serial killer. He's sure of it, Smith's daughter told him. They spend an evening together, going all over London and it's nice and peaceful. She likes him, Sherlock can tell, and for once it's not in a sexual way, a demanding way. She just likes him.

 

Everything is right and going to plan. John is back, angry yes but back. The game is on again and they go to confront Smith, go to reveal that Sherlock's been right all along and then it all goes to hell. Just like Mary said it would.

 

“ _Stop laughing at me.”_  
  


It's all confusing, all raw. That's not her. Where is she? She came to the house, she told him about her father, about needing to murder someone. Where is she?

  
_“Stop laughing at me.”_

 

Nothing makes any sense. Sherlock feels himself breaking down, Culverton's beady eyes laughing at him as he pulls his hair, trying to make sense of it all.

 

“ _Who came to my flat?”_

 

“ _Who are you talking to? What friend?”  
_

“ _Watch him, he's got a knife.”_

He hears Culverton speak, mocking him, laughing at him. He sees John stand next to him, concern or fear in his eyes. A sharp tone of voice, demanding but Sherlock can't stop. Can't listen.

 

“ _Stop it! Stop it now!”_  


He's moving and suddenly he's being pushed away, the hardness of the wall at his back, the coldness of the floor as panic raises. Something hits the floor and his body explodes with pain. He curls, trying to hide, rage and anger is surrounding him and his body's on fire. Breath leaves him, he wants to scream, to vomit but it's all surreal.

_  
“Let him do what he wants. He's entitled.”_

 

His body feels broken, his mind is gone as John watches him with hatred. John. He did this all for John. He wants to beg for forgiveness, scream for it but instead he just gives the facts.

 

“ _I killed his wife.”_

 

“ _Yes, you did.”_

 

He hears the hate, it washes over him, drowning him and then it all goes black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, episode two is a very short chapter but to be honest I had a hard time just reading the transcript of the part I needed so I don't want to spend too long writing about it. I found a transcript here;http://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?f=51&t=30473  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------  
> It's almost time for some comfort!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events at the morgue, Sherlock goes to a safe place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did plan to write one more chapter but then I started writing and it turns out I ended up with 9 more. ( Some will be small)
> 
> This story is about Season 4, episodes 1 and 2. 
> 
> Can I just remind you all that this story is very anti John and the end game is Sherstrade, just so you don't get your hopes up when John is mentioned.   
> \-----------------------------------------------------------

“Sherlock, are you sure?”

 

Mycroft's voice is soft as the car stops and Sherlock turns his head slowly. He sees Mycroft flinch, just a twitch of his hand but it's enough for Sherlock to know he really looks as bad as he feels.

 

“Don't you want to go home? Get some rest?”

 

Sherlock shakes his head, winching as it causes him pain and Mycroft reaches out, stopping mid movement before he places his hand back down on his lap.

 

“I'm sure Mycroft. I can't, can't go home. Not yet.”

 

Mycroft's looks out the window, seeing the light at the second floor and sighs.

 

“Sherlock, I.”

 

Sherlock places his hand hesitantly on Mycroft's, seeing his brother take a breath and he shakes his head lightly, not wanting to cause himself more pain.

 

“You couldn't have known Mycroft. I did my best to hide it from all of you. Don't blame yourself.”

 

Mycroft's lip trembles and Sherlock opens the car door, winching again as he steps out.

 

“I'll get in touch in a few days. Don't spy on me!”

 

Mycroft rolls his eyes, waving his brother goodbye as he tries to control himself. Rage is still inside him, getting stronger with every sound and sign his little brother is in serious pain.

 

“And don't make John disappear. I'll know it's you.”

 

Mycroft nods his head a little and let's the driver know he's ready to go. He won't make John disappear but he will give the man a visit. His gaze goes red as he sees images of Sherlock's broken body in the hospital bed. It's not hard to figure out what happened, not hard at all to know what John did to his brother and he can't let it slide. He'll make it perfectly clear to doctor Watson that this behaviour is not acceptable at all.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Sherlock? Oh my god.”

 

Sherlock tries to give a small smile but Lestrade's face is so shocked, so worried he stops, letting himself be looked at.

 

“He did this? All of it?”

 

There is clear anger in Lestrade's voice and Sherlock looks away, over Lestrade's shoulder while he's still being looked at. Almost like a freak in a circus.

 

“Dammit, get in Sherlock. Do you need help with the steps?”

 

Sherlock takes the first one, ready to decline Lestrade's offer cause the man has done enough for him but a small sound of distress escapes him as his ribs burn under his skin. He feels strong hands on him instantly, one arm wrapped around his waist while the other brings up his arm, draping it over Lestrade's shoulder.

 

“You really need to learn to accept help from time to time.” Greg crumbles, helping Sherlock up the three stairs to get inside the hall. He's never been more grateful for an elevator then now.

 

“You okay sitting here? Or do you need to lie down?”

 

Sherlock shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second as he sits down, his whole body is on fire and he hears Lestrade move around. When he opens his eyes there is hot tea and biscuits and Lestrade sits opposite him, looking him over again.

 

“Lestrade, it's not as bad as you...”

 

“Don't even dare Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock stops, seeing the rage in Greg's eyes and it's something he's not seen before. He's seen him irritated, angry, upset and frustrated but never this.

 

“He lost his wife Lestrade. It's my...”

 

“Don't you dare finish that sentence Sherlock Holmes. Don't you dare think you deserve this! You do, don't you?”

 

Sherlock swallows, reaching out for his tea but the movement makes him hurt all over again. Tears spring into his eyes and he hears Lestrade curse as he gets up.

 

“Here. Watch out cause it's hot.”

 

Sherlock takes the cup with trembling hands and their fingers connect for long moments as Lestrade makes sure the liquid won't spill. Sherlock takes a sip and lets out a sigh as the tea travels down his throat to his stomach. It's the perfect temperature and he feels himself warm up as he gives the cup back to Lestrade who sets it on the table. The hardness in his eyes has not gone away and Sherlock looks down, worry starting to enter his mind.

 

_I shouldn't have come. What was I thinking?_

 

He looks at Lestrade's profile, seeing those lines around his eyes again and he bites his lip. Why did he come here anyway?

 

“Sherlock? What's wrong?”

 

Lestrade places a hand on top of his own and he swallows again, wanting to cry at the kindness, that endless patience. He's tainting Lestrade, even though he'd promised not to do so and a couple of weeks later he's back here again, seeking comfort from a man he's seen as nothing but an idiot for years. He tries to stand up, winching at the movement, wanting to scream in agony but Lestrade's warm hand stops him from even getting of the sofa.

 

“Don't Sherlock. You need to rest.”

 

“I shouldn't be here.” He whispers, feeling his throat close as the truth hits him. He doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve this patience, this care. He closes his eyes again, turning his face away in shame and startles when tender fingers brush through his curls.

 

“Stay Sherlock. I don't mind. I want to help you, let me.”

 

A tear falls down his cheek as Lestrade keeps stroking his hair, warming him up all over. His body feels heavy and slow as Lestrade gently pulls him into a hug, petting his hair the whole time.

 

“You should get some sleep Sherlock. Why didn't you stay in the hospital?”

 

Sherlock shivers as Lestrade's breath ghosts over his ear. He opens his eyes, trying to answer but he's just too tired so nods instead.

 

“Oh Sherlock. C'mon, let's get you into bed.”

 

He lets out a sound as Lestrade moves him, helping him up and going to the end of the hall. It's not till he's actually in bed, shoes taken off by Lestrade and tucked in, that he realises the problem.

 

“Where will you s-sleep?”

 

The bed is warm and comfy, smelling like Lestrade and he breaths in deeply. The bed dips as Lestrade sits down, brushing away a stray curl before answering.

 

“Sofa's fine for me. You need rest. I'll come check in later.”

 

Sherlock reaches out, grabbing just one finger as Lestrade gets up. Sherlock blinks trying to focus, adjusting his grip so he has Lestrade's hand in his own.

 

“Stay?”

 

It's whispered but he sees that Lestrade's heard it anyway, the widening of his eyes, the rimple in his forehead.

 

“Don't think that's a good idea Sherlock.”

 

“Stay. Please?”

 

He sees the pained look on Lestrade's face, the unwillingness to move and he tugs at his hand.

 

“I don't want to sleep alone, I keep seeing...”

 

He trails off, taking a breath to compose himself, willing the images away, the hatred, the ruthlessness.

 

“Okay, I'll stay for a while. Till you fall asleep.”

 

Sherlock wants to cry out in relief but just gives a tired smile, letting go of Lestrade's hand as the man moves to the other side of the bed, taking off his shoes before lying down on the covers, face turned to look at Sherlock.

 

“Rest now Sherlock, I'm here and it's going to be fine. He won't hurt you again.”

 

There's that hardness again, the hatred but the caress against his forehead is soft and lovely. Its so strange, this combination of hard and soft and Sherlock wants to learn more, ask question but he falls asleep instead.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Stop laughing at me.”_

 

“ _He’s not laughing, Sherlock.”_

_  
“Sherlock! “_

 

“ _Sherlock_!”

_  
“Stop it! Stop It Now!”_

 

Sherlock startles awake, panic overflowing him as he lifts his arms to fight off the attack. Someone gives a scream and then the lights are one, warmth burning his body even more as he feels himself drowning.

 

“Sherlock! It's me Lestrade, wake up!”

 

He's panting heavily, ribs exploding in his body as tears blur his vision but he recognises the voice. He grabs in front of him, crying out as he fists the shirt in his hands and feels the gentle motion of being rocked back and forth.

 

“It's okay Sherlock, it's okay. I'm here. Shhhttt, you're safe now.”

 

Lestrade pets his head, holding him in an embrace as he calms down, the dream finally dissolving.

 

“I'm sorry, I thought I was. I'm sorry.” He's shaking all over, voice rough and cracked as his heart settles, making it easier to breath.

 

“Shhtt, no need to apologise. Here.”

 

Sherlock closes his eyes as Lestrade wipes away the tears with his handkerchief, keeping Sherlock a little away to check him over.

 

“You okay?”

 

Sherlock starts nodding his head before shaking his head no. He's not okay and he's not sure if he'll ever be okay to begin with. His body is on fire, he feels tired and old and he clings to Lestrade for dear life. He breaths in his scent, that little thing enough to calm him down even more as Lestrade keeps holding him.

 

“Oh Sherlock. I'm so sorry.”

 

Lestrade's voice is fragile and broken and Sherlock looks up, seeing the sadness in those brown eyes.

 

“It's not your fault.”

 

Sherlock frowns as Lestrade's face twists into agony and Sherlock squeezes his hand, not liking the way Lestrade looks at him.

 

“Lestrade, this is not your fault. I told you, Mary died and...”

 

“That's no excuse Sherlock. Stop defending him!”

 

“I'm not. It's a fact, John is grieving and...”

 

“And he kicked you into the hospital!”

 

Greg's voice is hard and Sherlock jolts, surprised by his outburst. Greg takes a breath, getting up to walk up and down the length of the room and Sherlock fights back tears.

 

“He. John didn't realise. He didn't mean to.”

 

“STOP DEFENDING HIM!”

 

Lestrade's voice fills the room, making Sherlock cringe as he sees the thunder in Lestrade's eyes.

 

 

“Have you even seen yourself Sherlock?! The bruises, the red eye! I heard he cracked two of your ribs and broke one. HE BROKE A RIB SHERLOCK! How dare you defend him even now?! How dare you say it's all your fault!”

 

“Mary died because of me! I made a vow Lestrade! I promised to protect them!”

 

“It was never your job to protect them! Where was he? Where was John? Why didn't he go with you?”

 

“Rosie. They couldn't leave Rosie behind.”

 

Sherlock stops, lip trembling and Lestrade sighs before sitting down again, taking Sherlock's hand in his own.

 

“Sherlock. I know you and John- He's been a good friend for you over the years but this”, Greg gestures to Sherlock's face, swallowing hard as Sherlock blinks, “this is too much to ignore. He hurt you Sherlock, he put you in hospital. Don't you see how bad that is?”

 

Sherlock looks down, closing his eyes as he takes a breath, his ribs are aching and he feels exhausted. He looks up, seeing the worry and care in Lestrade's eyes and he can't stop himself. He leans forward, his lips gently brushing against Lestrade's for a moment. It's barely a kiss but he hears Lestrade's sharp intake of breath before pulling back, keeping his eyes closed for a little longer, his lips tingling.

 

“Sherlock.”

 

“I know Lestrade.”

 

He sees the sadness in Lestrade's eyes and takes his hand, bringing it slowly to his lips to place a light kiss on the knuckles. Lestrade breaths out slowly, eyes on their joined hands, sitting perfectly still.

 

“We can't do this Sherlock.”

 

“I know.”

 

Sherlock gives a little smile, placing Lestrade's hand on the bed as he watches him with focus.

 

“You still want me.”

 

Lestrade rolls his eyes, giving Sherlock a look and Sherlock can't help the laugh escaping him.

 

“I always want you Sherlock. That will never change but I don't- I can't be your rebound. I know how you feel about John”, Lestrade holds up a hand as Sherlock opens his mouth, “and that's okay Sherlock but you need time to figure everything out and I don't want to make it any more complicated then it is.”

 

Greg sighs, standing up from the bed as he looks down at Sherlock.

 

“I want to kill him Sherlock. What he did to you, it's,” Greg sighs, hand going through his hair as he takes in Sherlock's face, seeing the damage done to his face, “I'll never forgive him for it. Please don't ask me to.”

 

“Lestrade.”

 

“Whatever you decide Sherlock, it's okay but you need to know I'll never forgive him for hurting you like this. You can stay as long as you need. You're my friend first and foremost and you need some peace and quite. You can have that here.”

 

Lestrade offers a smile and Sherlock nods his head once, too emotional to answer.

 

“Anything you need from home? I can go by tomorrow to go get it. I don't mind.”

 

Lestrade moves towards the door, the space between them growing bigger and Sherlock wants to cry out, grab hold of the man and press him close. Instead he watches as the door opens, Lestrade waiting for Sherlock's answer.

 

“My v-violin please. Tell Mds. Hudson I'm fine. She'll be worried sick.”

 

Lestrade nods, giving another smile that doesn't reach his eyes before closing the door with a soft good night.

 

Sherlock stares for a long while, Lestrade's words swimming before his eyes.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sorry.**

 

**I don't know what came over me.**

 

**Please forgive me. I was just so mad at you.**

 

**Can I come over?**

 

Sherlock sighs, phone in hand as he thinks about John's texts. He hasn't seem or heard from him in over 3 weeks and today the messages came pouring in. Apologise and begging to meet but Sherlock isn't sure if he wants to see John.

 

His body is still in pain, every breath reminds him of what happened and if he's being really honest with himself, he's afraid to face John. He knew John had a temper, had seen it many times before but what had happened there in the mortuary was something else entirely. Anger, betrayal, hate. He still wakes up, feeling the kicks to his stomach, disbelief and fear running through him as he decides to give up.

 

“ _I killed his wife.”_

 

“ _Yes, you did.”_

 

He drops his phone on the bed, taking out his violin and plays while thinking it over and over again in his head. He's still at Lestrade's and it's not bad at all. Lestrade bought an extra bed, something to pull out when needed and set it up in the living room. He told him he didn't mind moving but Lestrade was insistent he use his bedroom till he was mostly healed. He could get use to this. Lestrade is kind and caring, giving Sherlock the space the wants but the comfort he needs. They spend their evenings at home, cooking meals together and watching TV. It all feels very domestic and Sherlock's heart aches. This is what he wanted with John for a long time, companionship and acceptance.

 

Lestrade doesn't try to change him, he knows Sherlock needs quite, some space. He knows how weird he gets about food, how is socks have to be in the right order to make sense and Lestrade never mocks him for it.

 

He thinks about that last kiss, barely a kiss at all, and his lips tingle at the memory. He wants more, wants to kiss Lestrade again but his mind is still focused on John. He wants to see him, hear him, smell him but then he wakes up, his body hurting, eyes stinging and he knows they can never come back from this.

 

Lestrade is wrong, it is his fault Mary died, if he hadn't been so arrogant and cocky none of this would have happened. Mary would be alive, happy with Rosie and John and Sherlock would watch over them, doing everything in his power to keep them safe.

 

It haunts him, failing Mary like this, Rosie losing her mother and he misses the little Watson. He hasn't seen her for quite some time but Molly send some pictures and videos. She looked beautiful as ever but not as bright, as happy and he knows that's his fault too.

 

He can't see a life without John and Rosie in it but he also can't see himself acting like everything is normal. It's what they do isn't it? Pretend everything is fine and move along. He hates it, this hiding behind masks and smiles and fake politeness. It's so different with Lestrade, the man is an open book and when Sherlock asks questions Lestrade answers. They talk, about the past, about John, about what happened and about them.

 

“Would you want a relationship with me?”

 

“Sherlock. Can we stop talking about this?”

 

“It's just a question Lestrade. Would you?”

 

“You know I would.”

 

“Then why-”

 

“You don't love me Sherlock. You tolerate me, there is a difference.”

 

“That's not fair.”

 

Sherlock can't keep the hurt out of his voice as Lestrade just watches him. He shakes his head, drinking some more tea before continuing.

 

“I don't just tolerate you. I like you. How can you not know? Do you think I'd let anyone strip me and give me a bath?”

 

He sees the blush on Lestrade's cheeks at his words and it's adorable. He moves, facing the man fully.

 

“The first time, when I said yes. I did mean it.”

 

“You were grieving Sherlock, it doesn't count.”

 

“Why? Just because I was grieving doesn't mean I didn't want you. I like you.”

 

Lestrade sighs, hands going through his hair and Sherlock can't help but stare at it. He's always been fascinated by the colour, colours. He reached out, stroking Lestrade's hair and it's a soft as he always imaged it would be.

 

“Sherlock please. Don't be cruel.”

 

He blinks his eyes, seeing the want and hurt in Lestrade's dark pupils and he drops his hand, embarrassed by his lack of control.

 

“I'm sorry. I just.”

 

“It's fine Sherlock. Drink your tea before it gets too cold.”

 

Sherlock pouts but takes the cup anyway, drinking it all down. It's not like with John, it's softer, less demanding and more asking so Sherlock doesn't mind so much.

 

“I'm not good enough for you. You know that right?”

 

“Sherlock!”

 

Sherlock shakes his head, placing the cup back before looking at Lestrade. He looks tired but not exhausted and he needs to shave soon.

 

“I'm not. I'm rude and unkind. I never said thank you, not once. I took you for granted all these years but you're still here. Still helping me.”

 

“You're my friend Sherlock. Of course I'll help you.”

 

“Would you help John?”

 

It's a bad question, Lestrade's body going stiff instantly, his mouth tight as he looks away at the TV.

 

“He's your friend too right?”

 

Lestrade blinks, different emotions showing on his face, too fast to name. He takes a breath, slowly letting it out before looking at Sherlock, eyes hard.

 

“He's not my friend anymore.”

 

“Why?”

 

Sherlock sees Lestrade make a fist, feels the anger radiate off his body and it does something to Sherlock. His skin is on fire as Lestrade just stares, hand clenching and unclenching.

 

“You know why Sherlock. Stop talking about this.”

 

“He didn't hurt you.”

 

“Not the point Sherlock. Don't you understand?”

 

Lestrade's eyes are angry and sad and Sherlock is fascinated. So many emotions, so clear to see and he shakes his head.

 

“Christ Sherlock! He hurt you! He beat you into hospital. Why would I still call him a friend? Why would I want to help him?”

 

Lestrade's hands tremble and Sherlock tilts his head, taking in every line around his eyes and mouth. He really needs to shave.

 

“He's hurting too.”

 

“DON'T! Don't do that! Don't make it about him again. Sod him and his hurt!”

 

Lestrade kicks the table, cups moving in their plates. Sherlock stills, heart rate frantic.

 

“I can't do this Sherlock. I can't tell you I forgive him, I can't show compassion for him. What he did is out of line, hurt or not, and I don't want to see him ever again.”

 

“He texted me.”

 

Sherlock whispers, somehow afraid of Lestrade's reaction but wanting to tell him anyway. He looks down, afraid to see Lestrade's judgement and it stays silent for a long time.

 

“Are you going to see him?”

 

It's hard, words cut off as if difficult to get out and Sherlock throws up his hands, throwing a glance in Lestrade's direction. He looks exhausted now, disappointed and Sherlock feels his body go cold.

 

“I don't- I haven't decided yet. He wants to see me.”

 

“And of course you go running.”

 

Sherlock flinches because of the bitterness in the words.

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

Lestrade rolls his eyes and it hurts his body, seeing the face he makes as they finally look at each other.

 

“Don't pretend you don't know Sherlock. John Watson calls and you go running, no questions asked.”

 

Anger fills his mind and he spits it out, not thinking.

 

“As if you are one to talk _Lestrade_! You follow me around like a kicked puppy, begging for a treat!”

 

He hates himself as soon as the words are out there, hanging in the air as Lestrade sits there, not blinking, not even breathing.

 

“Greg, I didn't....”

 

“Maybe you are right,” Sherlock frowns and Lestrade looks up, face blank, “you aren't good for me.”

 

Lestrade gets up and Sherlock feels like crying, too upset and afraid to go after him.

 

“But that's the thing with loving someone, it makes you blind. Night Sherlock.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

It's awkward for a few days after that. Lestrade going to work early and coming in late, Sherlock wanting to shoot the walls as he waits to hear him come in.

 

He texted John back, asking for some more time and asking how Rosie was. He could tell John wasn't happy but for the first time it didn't bother him too much. What did bother him was the issue with Lestrade.

 

“Lestrade. We need to talk.”

 

It's been a week after their argument and it's the first time Lestrade is home before 8. Sherlock is healing, his face looking normal again but he ribs still give him a hard time when he moves too quickly. He's out of Lestrade's bedroom now, using the extra bed in the living room and it's not the same, not as comfy but he hasn't thought about going back to the flat either. Mycroft's minions show up from time to time, bring clothes and books so he's all set. Even this strange limbo hasn't made him think about moving back to 221B. And that says a lot actually.

 

“Sherlock, I don't feel so good. Can this wait?”

 

He moves to the kitchen, heating up some left overs from yesterday, asking if Sherlock wants some before going back to the living room and turning on the TV.

 

“Greg, I. Please can we talk?”

 

It's the first time he actually wants to talk about feelings and Lestrade is the only person who will grant him his wish every time. Tonight is no exception as Lestrade turns down the TV, patting the spot beside him as he takes a bite of his potatoes with beef.

 

“I'm sorry about what I said. I got angry and lashed out. I-I shouldn't have.”

 

“I wasn't very nice either Sherlock. I was out of line. I'm sorry.”

 

Silence falls as Lestrade continues eating, eyes half on the TV and half on Sherlock, as if waiting on something.

 

“Is it true you love me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Sherlock blinks, not expecting that fast and bold answer.

 

“Really?”

 

Lestrade eats the last if his dinner, putting the plate down before facing Sherlock, face open and honest.

 

“Yes Sherlock. I know I shouldn't, I know I never stand a chance but I love you.”

 

“Greg.”

 

Lestrade shakes his head and Sherlock falls quite, shock still pausing his brain.

 

“I know you love John. I know you're going back to him eventually.”

 

Sherlock frowns, taking Lestrade's hand and squeezing it hard.

 

“You don't know that. Even if I go back, John doesn't love me. Not like that.”

 

“He loves you enough to make it work Sherlock. I hate it, hate thinking about it but he would make it work. He'd do anything for you Sherlock, just like me.”

 

Sherlock shakes his head fiercely, grabbing both of Lestrade's hands as he moves closer, almost sitting on the man's lap.

 

“He wouldn't. Not like you. He doesn't love me. I've know for a long time, I likes me yes, admires me and wants to be my friend but that's all. He'll never want more, see me as more. Not like you do.”

 

“Sherlock,please don't. Stop talking, please. Don't do this to me.”

 

Lestrade tries to pull away his hands but Sherlock holds on, panic rising in his heart as Lestrade looks miserable.

 

“You love me Lestrade, why don't you do something about it?”

 

Lestrade's eyes go dark and Sherlock holds his breath, feeling the warmth of their joined hands.

 

“I told you before Sherlock. I am not your rebound. I refuse to.”

 

 

“You're not a rebound! Why do you keep insisting you are?”

 

“Oh c'mon on Sherlock! You just told me the only reason I'm allowed to do something about my love is because John will never love you like that! Don't mock me Sherlock, I have some brains left!”

 

Lestrade pulls, trying to free his hands but Sherlock just follows the movement, his grip tight, knuckles turning white with effort.

 

“Don't you understand? Why do you think I'm still here? Why haven't I moved back to 221B? I haven't seen John in all this time Greg. Don't you get it? I choose you.”

 

Sherlock leanes forward, pulling Lestrade's hands closer to his but Lestrade fight back, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“And what when John comes back? What when he stand in front of your door and tells you all you've ever wanted to hear? I wouldn't survive it Sherlock. If you're mine you'll have to be mine 100%. I'm a bit possessive and old fashioned in that regard. It would crush me Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock sees the longing and pain in Lestrade's eyes and he doesn't know what to say for a moment. He's not sure how he would react to John standing at his door, telling him he loved him all along and wants to try it. It's so confusing and frustrating and he hears a small sigh. When he focuses back on Lestrade his heart stops completely and he squeezes Lestrade's hands again.

 

“Sherlock, I think you should...”

 

“Don't! Don't say it! Can't we try? Why can't we try?!”

 

Lestrade's eyes are shiny and it takes a second to figure out that he's crying. Sherlock leanes forward, heads touching and they stay like that for a while, just breathing each other in, hands almost painfully connected.

 

“I love you Sherlock, I really do but just trying wouldn't be enough for me. I know it's selfish but I want all of you.”

 

“You can have all of me, I'm telling you right now. You have me!”

 

Sherlock was pleading, eyes stinging as Lestrade gave him a sad smile and another shake of his head.

 

“You don't believe that yourself. I know you mean well but it's too soon, too complicated. You need time to figure things out Sherlock and you staying here isn't helping.”

 

“No, Greg please.”

 

“You need to get back to your life, figure out what you want, what you need. I'll always be your friend Sherlock, whatever you decide, I won't leave you. But I can't start something with you, knowing you love another man.”

 

“Greg. I- We.”

 

Sherlock stopped, blinking his eyes to try and stop the tears from falling. Lestrade pulled his hands out of his and he let him, all his lust to fight gone. He broke down as Lestrade hugged him, pressing him close to his chest. Even now Lestrade was there for him.

 

“Shht, it's alright Sherlock. It will be all right. I love you so much. Shht.”

 

He clung to Lestrade's shirt, not wanting to leave but knowing he had to. Lestrade was right, he needed time to figure things out but his heart burned all the same.

 

The next morning Sherlock was back at Baker Street, physically healed but mentally lost like never before.

 

Love really wasn't easy at all.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is the best...

Sherlock soon finds out him and John are changed and don't work anymore. He goes over backwards, trying to do his best, trying to see John as the John he was before but it's hard. The damage is done and they both now it. John acts broken and fragile around him and Sherlock gets irritated and angry. How can John be broken?! It irritates him even more that John apologises non stop, over the most stupid things. It seems the only word John knows anymore is sorry and Sherlock hates it.

 

John says sorry but it never sounds real, never sounds sincere, more like something he says on repeat, like a broken CD. Sherlock can see it, John still blames him for what happened, he's constantly upset and angry, doing that angry snort before saying sorry again. It's toxic being together, John insisting they are fine, everything is well and Sherlock knowing, seeing the truth but being too afraid to speak up, to confront him.

 

And that's the worst part, the thing that's changed beyond repair, Sherlock being afraid around John. He doesn't want to be, but it's stronger then his mind. He keeps expecting John to snap again, over something he does, something he says. He finds himself flinching when there is a loud noise outside, when John moves too abruptly. Sherlock isn't sure John doesn't see it or just ignores it.

 

_Greg would never do that._ It's a thing that pops up in his head a lot since John is back in Sherlock's life. He feels guilty for it, knowing John and Lestrade aren't the same, were never the same but it's like he can see all the cracks and faults for the very first time.

 

He's always relieved when John goes back to his home, to Rosie and he hates himself for that too. This man has been his best friend for 4 years. He's been dreaming about John and him as more then friends for almost as long and now it seems he can only really breath when John is gone. He can only breath when he's with Lestrade.

 

It's confusing and he's spend hours and hours in his Mind Palace, trying to rebuild his 'John room' but it always crumbles back down. His eyes sting when he thinks about the friend he's lost, when he thinks about everyone he's lost. John, Mary, Rosie.

 

Even when John and Rosie are with him there is a distance too big to cross and it's driving him mad. He knows it can't last but he's also scared to think too much about it. He's at a loss and he reaches out to the one person that he knows has a clear, logical view on everything.

 

“I'd be more then happy to make him disappear Sherlock.”

 

“Mycroft, don't mock me. I need... I need help.”

 

Sherlock bites his lip, feeling like a 6 year old again when Mycroft just watches him, sitting perfectly straight opposite him.

 

“Why me Sherlock? I thought DI Lestrade was...”

 

“Lestrade doesn't have a clear view on this. He hates John.”

 

Mycroft raises an eyebrow and Sherlock sees a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Don't act so surprised Sherlock. Do you really think I'd like a man who beats my little brother into hospital? The only reason Doctor Watson is still in London is because I know how much you care for him. Even if I don't understand it.”

 

Sherlock looks down for a second, fingers tapping on his knees as he lets his brother's words sink in.

 

“I love him Mycroft. I mean, I loved him.”

 

Sherlock looks up, seeing the small nod Mycroft gives him. Of course he knows.

 

“He hasn't forgiven you Sherlock. He still blames you.”

 

Sherlock nods, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

 

“You shouldn't give your heart to someone who clearly doesn't deserve it.”

 

“It's not as simple as that Mycroft. You know it isn't.”

 

Mycroft's gaze shifts a fraction, a twitch in his right hand and Sherlock let's out a sigh.

 

“You don't want to hear this but I'll say it anyway,” Mycroft looks back, taking a breath before speaking again, “he doesn't love you and he never will. You've wasted enough of your time on him Sherlock. You can't wait around for him forever. Maybe he cared for you before but it will never be what you want it to be.”

 

Mycroft stops, standing up and going over to Sherlock, sitting down with some space between them.

 

“You shouldn't settle for second best Sherlock. You deserve someone who loves you, who will treat you right and will have respect for you. You need to tell him Sherlock. You need to lay it all out. Only then will you know what to do.”

 

Mycroft places his hand on Sherlock's for a moment, squeezing it before letting go and standing up.

 

“Stop living in this wasteland Sherlock, it's not good for anyone.”

 

Sherlock looks up, feeling a little embarrassed but Mcyroft gives him a soft look, a real look and Sherlock can't help but smile back because of it.

 

“I will. I just don't know how. I'm...”

 

“I know Sherlock. But you have to.”

 

Sherlock sighs, a sliver of frustration in it.

 

“I'm not good at this Mycroft! This talking. I always screw up!”

 

“You don't seem to have a problem with DI Lestrade.”

 

“That's different.”

 

“Is it?”

 

Mycroft gives him a look but Sherlock can't figure it out. He stands up as Mycroft takes him umbrella and walks to the door.

 

“Mycroft. I. Thank you.”

 

Mycroft turns, his eyes soft again and Sherlock feels his eyes sting because of it. It seems tragedy isn't all bad.

 

“You'll figure it out Brother Mine, you always do. Even if it takes some time.”

 

Mycroft does a half smirk and Sherlock rolls his eyes, waving his brother away.

 

“Good night Sherlock.”

 

With that Mycroft is gone and Sherlock is left with mixed feelings but some sort of plan.

 


	11. Chapter 11

His plan turns out to be not really a plan but just blurting it all out one day after a case. A case that doesn't involve Lestrade.

 

He's been texting the man almost daily, talking about how their day is going, some interesting cases, silly things really. They don't talk about John, about Sherlock's feelings and it's good. It gives him time to breath and Sherlock is again reminded that Lestrade does know him quite well.

 

“I've been in love with you for years.”

 

That's the brilliant line he starts with and it's the wrong thing to say cause John calls silent, his body stiff, shoulders tense. Sherlock swallows, feeling panic raise as John just sits there, not moving, not blinking, barely breathing.

 

“This isn't working John. I thought we could go back to how it was before, but... You'll never forgive me, not really and I can't.”

 

He stops as his eyes sting with starting tears, it's not what he wants to do right now, it's not what they both need so he takes a few deep breaths, wiling himself to calm down. John finally looks at him, his eyes cold and distant and it breaks his heart.

 

He's a stranger now.

 

_Greg would never do that._

 

After that John leaves, not with harsh words or slamming doors. He just leaves, a rushed 'I have to go' and that's it. It's rather anti-climatic.

 

It did hurt, that abrupt dismissal but he wasn't crushed with sorrow. If he was being really honest, and he was tired of pretending anyway, he was relieved. He finally said what he'd always wanted to say, finally got it out and it's like a weight lifted off his shoulder. He got his answer either way and maybe it wasn't the answer that he wanted (wasn't it?), he has it now and he can start to move on.

 

He does feel miserable now, a little raw after opening up his soul, getting it all out, seeing the changing emotions on John's face before he closed down. It was all the answer he needed, disbelief, anger, hate, disgust, shame. None of them were good and it's heartbreaking.

 

He's lost John forever now but if he thinks back he's lost him a long time ago.

 

Rosie.

 

Rosie makes him cry out in agony cause with John gone that light in his life is gone too. It's the only thing remaining of Mary and now he won't see her again, won't hear her laugh, see her sleep, feel her tiny finger around his as she dozes off. When he thinks about Rosie he thinks about going after John, begging him to forget all he said, pleading to just delete and erase.

 

“ _You shouldn't settle for second best Sherlock.”_

 

His brother's words always make him stop short, tossing his phone on the table, hanging his coat back up, deleting the e-mail he started.

 

It's painful, it's hell, but he doesn't contact John, only hearing from Molly how Rosie is doing.

 

“She's okay Sherlock. A healthy, lovely baby. Here, I took some pictures.”

 

They make him cry and Molly is stunned for a second before reaching out and hugging him tightly.

 

“I'm sorry Sherlock. Do you want me to stop sending them?”

 

Sherlock shakes his head, not able to ban Rosie from his life too. He needs her, needs that little connection to Mary and John in his life. She's innocent and pure and he can't not have her in his life, even if it's only through photos and videos.

 

“He could come around you know, maybe he just needs some time.”

 

Molly gives a weak smile and Sherlock doesn't respond, knowing it's just hope speaking. And when has hope ever been a good thing right.

 

It is what it is.

 

He can't change the situation with John but there is something he can change.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

He hasn't been to one of Lestrade's crime scenes in a while. They'd talked about it just when Sherlock was back at his flat and told Lestrade he'd seen John.

 

“You don't want him there do you?”

 

Sherlock couldn't blame Lestrade, it would have been weird and tense and Sherlock also wasn't sure if Lestrade would have kept his cool. He'd never seen the man as dangerous before but just mentioning John's name made Lestrade's eyes go cold and hard, his body tense. It was strange and also arousing in a way.

 

So he'd taken on private clients and some cases directed to him by Lestrade. His colleagues were idiots and Sherlock wanted to roll his eyes every 10 minutes but it kept him at work and out of the flat. His brain needed some distraction and since some recreational substances were off limits, crime scenes it was.

 

Now John was gone and Sherlock wanted to go and see Lestrade but he was also nervous. It had been a while since they'd seen each other and he wasn't sure if Lestrade still felt the same about him.

 

“ _Would you want a relationship with me?”_

 

“ _You know I would.”_

 

Lestrade's answer kept playing over and over in his head but he couldn't be sure Lestrade had changed his mind. And he couldn't blame him for that either.

 

“ _I told you before Sherlock. I am not your rebound. I refuse to.”_

 

He knew most people would have left by now, probably pissed off for being treated like that but Lestrade had stayed.

 

“ _You're my friend Sherlock, that won't ever change.”_

 

Sherlock hoped it was true but he still felt that showing up on a crime scene wouldn't be good. He didn't want to cause Lestrade distress, he'd done enough of that, so he decided to text first. He still didn't like calling people, even if he loved to hear Lestrade's voice in his ear.

 

**Any cases going on that you need some help with? SH**

 

He almost dropped his phone while fidgeting with it, startled by the quick response.

 

**You know I always appreciate your help Sherlock.**

 

He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he read the message. At least Lestrade still wanted to hear from him.

 

**You can come round the station if you like, never short of work.**

 

He didn't do a happy dance, he didn't, but his feet did bounce up and down a few times as he texted back, before getting up and grabbing his coat.

 

**Be there in 20. SH**

 

He arrived 15 minutes later, trying to not rush to Lestrade's office but just walk there. Donovan called out a hello and Sherlock nodded before knocking and going inside.

 

Lestrade looked up from a stack of paperwork, surprise and delight clear in his eyes as he saw Sherlock walk in.

 

“You knock now?”

 

Lestrade chuckled as Sherlock stopped in the middle of the room, feeling a bit warmer then seconds ago.

 

“I. Trying something new Lestrade.”

 

Lestrade gestured to a chair and Sherlock sat down, eyes going over the man's face. Lestrade looked good but a bit tired and he also seemed a little thinner. Sherlock didn't like that, he loved how Lestrade was fit but also soft, how he had muscles but also soft spots that looked perfect to kiss and caress.

 

Lestrade cleared his throat and Sherlock felt a blush start in his neck as he realised he'd been starring. _At least he can't read minds._

 

“You're alone?”

 

There was an edge to Lestrade's voice and Sherlock nodded, seeing the way Lestrade's eyes softened even more.

 

“Greg, I think we need to -”

 

“Sir! Crime scene at the Bouggle farm! Seth Bouggle's body been called in not 5 minutes ago.”

 

Donovan rushed in, the door slamming against the wall.

 

“Neighbours called us last week remember? Said they heard fighting and glass breaking.”

 

Lestrade nodded his head, getting up and grabbing his coat, he followed Donovan but stopped at the door, looking back at Sherlock.

 

“You coming? I'll buy you dinner after.”

 

Sherlock nodded, getting up to follow Lestrade and Donovan to the crime scene. He had a weird moment where he took out his phone to send a text to John before remembering that part of his life was over. He still had John's number, not sure why he hadn't deleted it but that was something to think about for a later time. Right now he had a crime to solve and he felt excited as they headed off, going to see what story Seth Bouggle's body had to tell him.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Seth Bouggle's body told a story about jealousy, money and obsession and it was fascinating. Sherlock walked around the farm, taking everything in, seeing the different set of footprints, the way they'd tried to move the body, the blood spatter. He told everything to Lestrade and the team, doing his best to explain how he got to his conclusion and he felt Lestrade's eyes on him the entire time. It warmed him up, kept him going and wanting to do his best and 4 hours later they were back at Lestrade's flat.

 

“You really are amazing Sherlock. How you do that, see it all, figure it out. It's still pretty damn amazing.”

 

Sherlock blushed, not knowing how to act at Lestrade's praise. It was so different from John's. Yes, John had called him brilliant and amazing too but Lestrade added something more to it, as if he really believed it. As if Sherlock was amazing and brilliant as a person and not just for what he could do, could see. He turned around, heading into the living room as Lestrade hung up their coats, his eyes on the books as he tried to calm down.

 

It felt like home here and he'd missed it. The brown sofas, the little coffee table, the books in the shelves and by the window. Most of all he'd missed Lestrade, the calm effect he had on Sherlock, the way he made Sherlock feel normal and special all at the same time.

 

“What do you fancy Sherlock? Chinese or Thai? I don't have enough at home to cook us something.”

 

“Thai sounds lovely. You think Donovan can handle her own?”

 

Lestrade nodded, grabbing a menu and dialling in their order.

 

“Course she will. Food will be here in about 30 minutes. Want something to drink, I have alcohol free wine.”

 

Sherlock nodded and Lestrade went to fetch the bottle. Not many people knew this but Lestrade had a bit of an alcohol problem. When they'd first met Lestrade had been clean for a year and it was the first thing Sherlock noticed and commented on. It helped, knowing Lestrade had an addiction to fight too and it made it easier to accept help and advice of him when he was about to fall again.

 

He came back with the bottle and two glasses, pouring them each a drink as they waited for the food to arrive. Sherlock felt nervous, not knowing how to start their conversation, not knowing how Lestrade would react. Would he believe it?

 

“How have you been Sherlock? It's been a while since I saw you.”

 

An edge of sadness in Lestrade's tone and Sherlock swallowed down his sip of wine, it wasn't bad at all.

 

“It's been complicated. I've had- I've been thinking,” Sherlock felt a blush rise from his neck to his cheeks, he took another sip, trying to buy some time, “I've missed you.”

 

He saw Lestrade's eyes go wide with surprise, saw the little quirk of his mouth but before he could say anything more and before Lestrade could respond the bell went. They both jumped at the sound, forgetting about the world already and Lestrade cleared his throat as he got up.

 

“Food's here, be right back.”

 

Sherlock let out a breath, heart hammering inside his chest as he heard Lestrade go down the stairs, talking to the deliver guy and coming back, 3 bags of food in hand. He raised an eyebrow and Lestrade scowled.

 

“Oi! Don't judge, I've been up since 5 and only ate 1 sandwich. I don't have the gift of not eating like you sunshine!”

 

Sherlock felt his heart do a flip at the name, blinking his eyes rapidly as Lestrade went to the kitchen for plates and utensils. It must have slipped out cause Lestrade didn't seen to notice the effect that word had on him. Sherlock smiled as Lestrade came back, dishing up their food and Sherlock felt his stomach growl as the smells filled the room.

 

“Tuck in, it's great Sherlock. Even you will love this.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and Lestrade chuckles, making his heart do another flip. Damn, that man was illegal!

 

“You should eat more Lestrade, you're too thin.”

 

“Oi! Who's talking?”

 

“That's different.”

 

Lestrade raised an eyebrow and Sherlock swallowed down a bite.

 

“I've always been thin. You look better with some soft edges, I like that.”

 

Sherlock stopped talking when he saw the look on Lestrade's face.

 

“I mean, I. I didn't. Did I say something wrong?”

 

He blushed furiously as Lestrade kept watching him, mouth slightly open, his eyes a shade darker then before, a light blush on his cheeks as he slowly shook his head.

 

“You like that?”

 

“I like you.”

 

Sherlock heard Lestrade suck in a breath and he was sure he'd said something wrong now.

 

“I'm sorry. Just forget it, I didn't mean-”

 

Sherlock stopped as Lestrade stood up and came to sit next to him, his dinner forgotten as he watched Sherlock like a hawk.

 

“Don't. Don't take it back. Tell me, what do you mean?”

 

Sherlock swallowed, looking down at his Thai as he felt Lestrade's gaze warm him up. He'd forgotten how weird it was, being in someone's focus like that. He put his container down, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

 

“I'm not good at this,” he whispered, looking down at his hands as he wrung them together,” I always say the wrong thing and then people get mad and leave.”

 

Sherlock wanted to purr as Lestrade's hand layed over his own, having missed his touch, his warmth, his companionship.

 

“Sherlock. I won't leave, you know that right?”

 

Sherlock nodded, gazing up at Lestrade and seeing the care in his eyes.

 

“Lestrade. Greg. I'm so sorry.”

 

Sherlock saw his face fall and he shook his head fiercely, breaking out of Lestrade's hold and taking his hands in his own.

 

“I'm so sorry I caused you pain. You've been nothing but good to me and I've been a fool. I know you think I still have feelings for John but Greg, it's not true. I knew, I knew the moment John was back in my life that it wasn't enough. He's not the man I knew, he's changed, I'm changed and I wish I'd figured that out sooner.”

 

Lestrade watched him, his face blank for once and Sherlock felt his hands tremble.

 

“You were right that night for turning me down. You deserve everything, you deserve someone who will love your for 100%, even more. You deserve the best Greg and I know I'm not that person.”

 

Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock stopped him, talking over his head.

“I'm not a good man, I have a lot of faults and I've made too many mistakes to count but I've been dreaming about you for weeks now. Every time something happened I wanted to tell you first, when I was angry, upset or happy I wanted to text you, call you. Not hearing from you has been- It's been horrible.”

 

“Sherlock.”

 

“I don't know if I love you, I don't know that what I'm feeling right now when I look at you, when I touch you, is love but I've never felt like this before. Not even with John. Don't you see? You will never be a rebound, never a second best. It's you Greg, it's been you for a very long time and I really hope I'm not too late now.”

 

Sherlock wanted to say more, tell Lestrade how kind he was to him, how he admired his strength, his courage, his positive outlook on life. He wanted to tell him how he liked his hair, the way it felt against his fingers, how he liked that Lestrade had a darker skintone then his, how much it stood out when they held hands just like this. He wanted to tell him so much more but he couldn't cause Lestrade had leaned forward, bringing his lips to Sherlock's and Sherlock had lost all ability to think or speak.

 

“Greg.”

 

“Damn,that voice is going to kill me Sherlock, come here.”

 

Sherlock moaned as Greg kissed him again, more pressure and more tongue. It was intoxicating, feeling Greg against him, tasting him, being able to run his hands through that grey hair again. It was everything he'd ever wanted and more.

 

“Lestra- Greg, do you? Are you? Will you?”

 

Greg chuckled as Sherlock stammered on, his head spinning as Greg watched him with dark eyes, lips shiny.

 

“I've told you Sherlock, I love you. I'll always love you. Are you sure Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock growled before crashing their mouths together again, pushing Greg down on the sofa. He heard the man moan beneath him and he couldn't stop the smile as Greg's hand grabbed his arse and pulled them closer.

 

“Oh fuck, Sherlock!”

 

Greg's voice sounded dark and husky and it send shivers down Sherlock's spine as Greg placed kisses on his neck.

 

“Greg, I, Greg, you need to know.”

 

Greg watched him, eyes unfocused and Sherlock bit his lip, not sure if this was the right time to say it.

 

“Fucking hell! You're going to kill me, those lips, fuck Sherlock.”

 

Greg leaned forward again, crashing their mouth together, licking his way inside till Sherlock moaned loud, his body moving against Greg's. He couldn't stop the growl when he felt Greg's erection against his leg and Greg moaned in response, pushing them closer as he licked and sucked his neck.

 

“Greg, I'm a virgin.”

 

Greg stopped, looking at Sherlock with disbelief and something else, something dark and hot and Sherlock shivered.

 

“Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock had goosebumps at the way Greg said his name. Sherlock started to push himself up, trying to create some space but Greg moved with him, pulling Sherlock on his lap, faces close as Greg watched him, hands still on Sherlock's arse.

 

“Don't be ashamed Sunshine. We can take our time, find out what you like.”

 

“I'm a virgin Lestrade, I'm not dead.”

 

Greg laughed out loud at Sherlock's pout, kissing him on the mouth before pulling away again, his eyes sparkling.

 

“Well, it will be my pleasure to find out what you like.”

 

“You don't mind?”

 

“Oh Sunshine, you have no idea how much I don't mind. Knowing I'll be the first to see you naked, explore that gorgeous body, find out all the sounds you make when I kiss you, touch you, make you come. Feel it Sherlock? I don't mind at all.”

 

Sherlock blushed scarlet at Greg's words, feeling the effect he had on the man. His eyes closed without thinking about it, moving slightly forward and Greg licked his neck, Sherlock shivering because of it.

 

“Greg, I, oh god.”

 

Greg smirked as he squeezed again, pressing their erections together.

 

“I have a feeling we'll be fine Sunshine. You have no idea how long I've wanted you, how much I've dreamed about this moment. Stay tonight? I want to feel you next to me when we go to sleep.”

 

Greg kissed him again, so much longing and love in it it made Sherlock's heart melt.

 

“I'll stay, of course I'll stay,” Sherlock whispered near Greg's ear, licking the shell and making the man moan, “but I don't feel like sleeping right now Greg.”

 

Sherlock grinned and Greg laughed, kissing Sherlock again and Sherlock was sure he'd never get tired of that.

 

“You are amazing Sherlock.”

 

“You're perfect Greg. It's you, it will always be you.”

 

“I love you Sherlock, so much. Let's go to bed.”

 

“But Greg, I'm not tired.”

 

“Oh, you will be when I'm finished with you.”

 

Sherlock felt a spark of arousal at Greg's words and he followed him to the bedroom. It had taken them some time to get here but Sherlock wasn't going anywhere. This was the place he belonged, the man he loved and deserved and he would do everything in his power to prove to Greg he was being sincere about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, I hope you enjoyed it... Pain and all. 
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this yesterday on my Tumblr for my followers and now I'm sharing it here with maybe new readers. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Something I wrote down Wednesday night after work after I dreamed about it Tuesday. It's like a different style then normal so let me know what you think of it. And yes, this isn't a real happy ending but it didn't seem right in the situation and Greg wouldn't take adventage like that, ever.  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> 


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